


Don't Break Character

by stars28



Series: Agent Carter Fics [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drinking, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-05 21:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10317326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars28/pseuds/stars28
Summary: Jack can't break his usual character, even if it means he ends up drinking while at the office.





	

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing in this fandom… I blame the binge watch I did of Season 1 & 2 over the past couple of days.

_“Don't break character_  
_You've got a lot of heart_  
_Is this real or just a dream?_  
_Rise up like the sun_  
_Labour till the work is done…”_  
**– Be Still, The Killers.**

One thing that Chief Jack Thompson was glad of was scotch and the bottom drawer in his desk that locked. He took a look outside his office to see Carter and Sousa chatting, him leaning against Carter’s desk. The early evening light hit Sousa’s face and lit him up, helped by the fact that he was smiling at something Carter had said.

Jack’s stomach turned violently in a way that had _nothing_ to do with the gruesome pictures on his desk. He stood up and shut the blinds, blocking the vision from his eyes. He turned back to his desk, sitting down heavily on his chair and unearthing the bottle of scotch. He twisted the bottle cap off and took a much needed swig, wincing slightly as it burnt down his throat. The slight burn of good quality alcohol was preferable to the tugging of his heart.

He didn’t care that he had stuff to do, important stuff to do with the latest in a string of killings. He just wanted the image of Sousa smiling at Carter out of his fucking brain.

* * *

“Thompson?”

It was Sousa; Jack would know that voice anywhere. (Not that he’d ever admit that.)

He blinked sluggishly in the direction of Sousa’s voice, his left hand clasped loosely around the neck of the scotch bottle, and replied, “Yeah?”

“Thompson, me and Peggy have got a possible…” Sousa trailed off

Jack whimpered almost silently at the thought of Carter and Sousa being a unit, an _item_. It hurt more than it should have. He’d known this was coming but it didn’t make it hurt any less. He cradled the bottle to his chest, feeling himself tip back in his chair.

And then Sousa was in front of him, concerned brown eyes looking at him and a warm hand on his shoulder. Jack tried not to lean into the contact too much. All too soon it was gone, but Sousa stayed on his side of the desk, leaning back against it to take some weight off his leg.

“Jack…” Sousa said, a frown on his face, “Are you drunk?”

He laughed, maybe too loudly, “No. Obviously not.”

Sousa raised his eyebrows in clear disbelief. “Right. And that’s why the bottle you’ve got is almost empty.”

Jack took a long sip from the bottle in question and hiccupped, “That’s right.”

Fuck, was it just his wishful imagination or had Sousa’s eyes softened, just a bit? He was drunk and seeing things, that’s all it was.

“You’re going home.” Sousa said, matter of fact.

“I thought I was the Chief around here.” Jack protested. He finished the bottle off and set it down on the desk.

“Not when you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“You damn well are Jack,” Sousa said firmly, “And you’re going home. No arguments.”

Sousa had used his first name, Jack thought distantly, his heart beating quickly in his chest. It was an unusual occurrence. It’d happened before, when they were on a case or when they were both drunk. But even so, it sent a thrill through him.

“F-fine.” He said, standing up and wobbling a little. He put his hand on the side of the desk until he was steady enough to go over to the coat rack and grab his coat and hat. He slid the coat on, all too aware of how Sousa was observing him. This wasn’t the first time he’d gotten drunk afterhours because of Sousa and Carter. And he’d bet that it wouldn’t be the last.

Jack exited his office, dimly away of Sousa’s crutch plodding behind him.

“I’m off.” He announced to the room at large, noting the few agents that looked up in acknowledgement.

He’d walked all the way to the door before he heard Sousa.

“Bye Thompson.”

Jack’s heart twisted painfully and he tried not to react visibly. Instead he kept walking, with the destination of home and a bottle of scotch, which was waiting for him.

Fuck. It was painful being in love with Daniel Sousa. And there was _nothing_ Jack could do about it.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are welcome.


End file.
